Confessions of a Vintage Guitar Dealer: The Memoirs of Norman Harris

By Norman Harris

In Confessions of a Vintage Guitar Dealer, Norman Harris tells how he became the world's leading seller of vintage guitars. As founder and owner of the legendary store Norman's Rare Guitars, he has sold some of the finest fretted sting instruments to the biggest stars in the world, including George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, and many others.

In 1970 Harris moved to Los Angeles in hopes of hitting the big time in music. His first plan was performing, but plan B was buying and selling guitars, and he had no idea how much opportunity for this there would be. Many groups came to LA also hoping to hit it big, but those who didn't might have to sell their instruments. This helped make early-1970s Los Angeles a haven for beautiful vintage guitars. At the same time, Hollywood was beginning to realize the value of time-correct instruments in film, and the recording industry recognized the high-quality sound vintage instruments produced. The value of these instruments has grown dramatically since the '70s, and the vintage guitar market has become an international phenomenon – with Norman Harris at the center of it all.

Filled with fascinating stories and insights into the entertainment business, Confessions of a Vintage Guitar Dealer is an intriguing memoir from a man who has spent a lifetime getting extraordinary instruments into the hands of extraordinary artists.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RowmanLittlefield
• Release date: May 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781495063886

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Norman W. Harris

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without written permission, except by a newspaper or magazine reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review.

Published in 2016 by Hal Leonard Books

An Imprint of Hal Leonard Corporation

7777 West Bluemound Road

Milwaukee, WI 53213

Trade Book Division Editorial Offices

33 Plymouth St., Montclair, NJ 07042

Printed in the United States of America

Book design by Michael Kellner

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Harris, Norman W., 1949- author. | Yorkin, David, author.

Title: Confessions of a vintage guitar dealer : the memoirs of Norman Harris

/ Norman W. Harris, David Yorkin.

Description: Milwaukee, WI : Hal Leonard Books, 2016.

Identifiers: LCCN 2015043844 | ISBN 9781495035111 (hardcover)

Subjects: LCSH: Harris, Norman W., 1949- | Guitar--Collectors and collecting.

| Businessmen--United States--Biography. | Guitar--United States--History.

Classification: LCC ML1015.G9 H285 2016 | DDC 787.87/19092--dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015043844

www.halleonardbooks.com

To Marlene, the love of my life, who’s stuck around through it all, from the ridiculous to the sublime. My success is directly attributed to you.

Also to my son, Jordan, my daughter, Sarah, and her husband, Troy, my granddaughter, Brooklyn, and my grandson, Oliver.

Contents

Foreword by Richie Sambora

Preface by Joe Bonamassa

Acknowledgments

Introduction: Let’s Make a Deal

1. Miami Daze

2. Draft Board ’69

3. Moving to California

4. The Hendrix of the Electric Bass

5. Union Dues, Music Stores, and Buying Strategy

6. Encounter with a Beatle

7. A Gentleman Named Robbie

8. Eddie’s Custom Strat

9. Crash Corriganville

10. Norm’s in Hollywood

11. Plan B

12. Founding Fathers of Fender

13. The Right Time to Sell

14. King of the Swaps

15. The Elusive ’Burst


16. Advertising Pays

17. World Famous Tinkerer

18. The Ones That Got Away

19. Mysterious One-Offs

20. The Greatest Unknown Guitarist

21. Fogerty’s Rick

22. Scary Situations

23. Killer Basses

24. Playing for Laughs


25. A Really Good Guy

26. REO Dave

27. A Piece of the Magic

28. Unexpected Gifts

29. A Mission

30. Shaking All Over

31. You Can’t Do It Alone

Conclusion: Wisdom

Photographs

Foreword

Dedication to Norm—

So, let me introduce you to Norman Harris. I think the first time I walked into Norm’s shop was 1988. I had just made a little money so I could afford to walk into his store. It was a small spot on the corner of Tampa and Vanowen Streets in Reseda. I had been hanging around with Cher and her son, Elijah Allman, who was getting to know the guitar. I was giving him a little bit of a hand, and I said, Let’s go down and see this rare guitar shop, which I’d heard great things about but had never been there. When we got there, I met Norman. He was gracious enough to let us play some instruments that he knew I couldn’t afford. Then he gave me a really good deal on things that were appropriate for my income bracket. It was very, very nice of him. When you believe in doing that for a musician, you give him an opportunity to grow to the next level, and that is very important.

It was at that moment I knew that Norm and I were friends; we could talk to each other in a language that we both understood.

Lord knows, he was very lenient to me in the lean years, and I love him for that. He knows that when it comes to a starter kit of your first vintage axe, you’ll fall in love and never fall out.

So thank you, Norm. I’m a junkie now, a vintage guitar junkie, and it’s all your fault, but that is a healthy habit. All I know is, when you walk into Norm’s store, it’s like heaven. At any given time you know you’re going to fall in love four or five times before you leave, and the interesting part about that is you’re almost walking back in time, because the instruments you can acquire are timeless. So you’d better bring your checkbook.

•••

Norm has helped a tremendous amount of musicians reach their goals through supplying them with the instruments to hone their craft. He understands a musician’s needs and that’s no easy task. Guess what, Norm? That’s it!

I don’t know if you know this but Norm is quite an accomplished musician himself. Norman is a Hammond organ specialist who has played with numerous top musicians. He has backed up Little Richard, Bo Didley, Dobie Gray, and Albert Collins on many occasions, as well as Lowell Fulsom, Eddie Clean Head Vinson, Roy Milton, Big Mama Thornton, and numerous other iconic bluesmen and women. He has had songs in several movies. He currently has a song on John Legend’s latest album and has even had a huge hit with the rapper Common.

Supplying dreams is something else amazing about Norm. You walk into his store or call him and he says, What do you need to fulfill that dream? So you tell him what it is, and he says, "I got it, I got it! You know that’s a very special thing. Then he’ll call you up at any moment, out of the blue, and say, You need this guitar, Rich, this is for you, and this is your guitar." Norm and I have a relationship that spans almost thirty years, so he knows me, the player, and he knows me, the person. ’Cause it ain’t about the money for him. I mean, let’s face it. Everyone must make a living. He’s a musician, and it’s a pleasure for him to see all the musicians he knows flourish, prosper, and make a living playing music, especially with a guitar. That’s Norm.

He’s the vintage guitar pusher, because he knows you’ll become addicted. I say that in the best of ways.

When you give a musician the right instrument, it’s a very important day in his or her life, like an angel has come down and tapped him on the shoulder with the right wand. Norm does that every day. Music has been my life for as long as I can remember; it’s my sanctuary, my church, and a source of spirituality for me. Whenever I take the stage, whether it’s in front of seventy people or a stadium filled with seventy thousand people, it is the guitars that Norm has bestowed on me that I use to light the candles on the altar of spirituality.

Norm’s vibe is one at the heart and soul of a musician. He inherently understands each musician’s needs at his or her present level of development. His extreme knowledge of these fine instruments is rare. He is a master of knowing what instrument to put in the hands of which musician and how they will both be best served.

Norm is the guy who granted me that 1959 Les Paul and a Broadcaster when I needed it, and then he’d call me up and, lo and behold, I have a Strat No. 13. His instruments are not only rare in their being but also in tone and work. They stay in tune, and as a professional musician, you have to have instruments that work.

If you work with Norm, he never misses your birthday, and when you need a break, he’ll give it to you. Norm gives deep from the heart and never speaks of it or boasts.

Over the thirty years that we’ve known each other, I have known him as a wonderful husband to Marlene and an amazing father to Jordan and Sarah (and now he’s a granddad, HAH!). He’s just a few years older than me (I just started a little later).

Norm has been a mentor to me by sharing his knowledge, his love, and his friendship, and also his endless philanthropic quest.

A few years back, my buddy Norm and my dear friend, assistant, and right arm, Denise Smith-Salazar, began collaborating on a project. They wanted to produce a three-show benefit concert series at the Malibu Performing Arts Center to raise money for The Midnight Mission (LA’s premier homeless shelter). They invited me to lend a hand in the most obvious way by asking, Will you perform? I said, Of course!

This was my introduction to the incredible body of work being done by The Midnight Mission, and Norm’s dedication resonated with me. So, for over a decade, I’ve been humbled and proud to support the Mission however I can, and it’s been one of the most rewarding experiences, more than anything else I’ve done in my life. Thank you, Norman.

Let’s not forget the acoustics! Bring cash or trades if you’re holdin’. The Martins and the Gibsons and the Epiphones that I use on every record that I make are the cornerstone of my tone, and I got them from Norm.

When Norman gets to know you and drops his guard he’s like one big, open heart. He would do anything for you. I’m sure reading the stories in this book, you’ll gain a lot of insight about the man that resides in Norm’s body, it’s Norman!

I’m writing this as I’m walking out of my house to go to my gig with my trusty 1938 Martin 000-42 that I’ve now played on countless albums . . . (yes, I’m sure since I’ve had it, it has gone up incredibly in value). Yes, brother, I’ll buy you a car someday . . . probably already have. Every time I pick up any of the amazing instruments that I have gotten from Norm, I know they have become an appendage that I can rely on in any situation, in the studio or on the stage.

So now that I’m done masturbating your ego . . .

Norm,

You are family to me, and your family is family to me, and your family loves my family and mine, yours.

So enough of that . . . Love you much, bro and don’t stop shakin’ the tree.

Enjoy the book.

—Richie Sambora

Preface

What is it about vintage guitars that fascinate collectors so much? Is it the feel, the craftsmanship, the sound, the backstory, or the desire to find the guitar that was made just for you . . . even before you knew it existed? If the answer to all these is yes, chances are you already have it. And what is it, you may ask? It . . . is the disease. The collecting bug and the willingness to go without food, clothing, or shelter to finance the next guitar or amp that you don’t really need but have convinced yourself that it is now the best guitar/amp I ever played/heard. A healthy addiction to vintage guitars and amps consumes every spare thought and action you have vis-à-vis your daily life and responsibilities. If you are a member of multiple discussion forums and have guitar-themed coffee mugs, house keys, T-shirts, and point-of-purchase memorabilia littered anywhere you can put it, you definitely have the disease. If you are married, there is normally a room dedicated to your addiction. And there you are, sequestered into your man cave, surrounded by items that many who enter may not understand. But you do! Is your idea of heaven cranking up a Tweed Deluxe rather than a beach in Tahiti? Sound familiar? The disease, this is the disease that has enriched my life ever since I bought a copy of Tom Wheeler’s American Guitars book and saw Dan Toler play a Sunburst Les Paul with the Gregg Allman Band circa 1983. It was in those days that I began to truly fall in love with electric guitars primarily made in the mid- to late-fifties. My whole life has been transformed by the love of vintage guitars and amps and the pursuit of the knowledge of the manufacturers and the inventors behind the scenes. It is so fascinating that (even in modern times) most of the guitar-buying community is obsessed with designs and technology that were developed back in the thirties, forties, fifties, and sixties. Think about it. What other industry uses antiquated quarter-inch Switchcraft connectors as the industry standard? Imagine if the automotive industry only made cars like they did in the fifties? It would be like living in Cuba! A world frozen in time. However, for the guitar player of today, the guitar design and technology of the past cannot seem to be improved upon, and these relics of yesteryear are all standard fare in the guitar community of today.

I am the son of a guitar dealer and music store owner. I was raised in upstate New York in the late seventies and eighties, where there was a wonderful little circuit of clubs that had bands playing every Friday and Saturday night into the wee hours. Add to this, the drinking age was eighteen at the time and this combination fueled a music scene that was vibrant enough for one to make a decent living playing Bob Seger covers on the weekends. In the early eighties, there was a ton of used, vintage, and new guitar equipment for sale in a bevy of mom-and-pop music stores that stayed in business by serving the local music community. This meant that you could find an old Les Paul guitar and a Fender tube amp and still have enough for dinner from your $1,000 bank withdrawal. My father was one of those musicians who loved to buy and sell guitars even before he turned it into a business. Always seeking better guitars, there were many deals being made and a lot of I need to sell this to pay for that. Being young and impressionable, I quickly learned from my father how cool it was to find something that had been hidden in a closet untouched for thirty years and learn its backstory. I learned how to turn one guitar into two by trading up. My dad would answer all the local classified ads that had any potential and I often got to go along with him on these guitar safaris because, like him, I was now addicted to the search for the illusive grails of guitardom. It was like a treasure hunt, and the best part was that we could make music with the things we found.

The Bonamassas never had a lot of money, and we lived a modest middle-class life, so it wasn’t like we could buy everything we found on sight. My dad would always say, If the bills are paid and the heat works then we can justify $300 on this chocolate-colored Princeton amp, but if times get tough, we will have to sell it. I always understood that and respected my father’s practical approach to collecting. The hunt became a true bonding experience for father and son. I loved the guitars and amps we found, and I was into it in a big way.

I remember the first time I held a spaghetti logo’d Fender Stratocaster in my hands that we had found during a weekend outing together. It was like I had been handed a Stradivarius violin. To Leo Fender, it was probably just a means to an end, but to me it was like Excalibur. I think I stared at it longer than I played it. To this very day I am a sucker for a Buddy Holly Strat. I mean . . . we are talking life-changing stuff here!

I met Norman around 1991 when I was flown out to Los Angeles to appear on the short-lived Into the Night with Rick Dees late night ABC program. I was part of a skit involving sixties rock-and-roll staple Billy Vera and a Barney Fife impersonator. That is all I will say on that matter. Anyway, during this trip to California my mom and my sister Lindsay decided to go sightseeing while my dad and I ventured off to discover the wonderful vintage guitar scene that was thriving in Los Angeles at the time. In 1991, both sides of Sunset Boulevard between Gardner and La Brea was packed with guitar shops full of old amps and guitars. It was sensory overload for this wide-eyed youth from upstate New York, and I remember vividly walking into these stores and seeing guitars that I had only seen in books. I particularly remember being yelled at by Lloyd Chiate at Voltage Guitars on Gardener Street for touching a tweed Deluxe he had on display. It was traumatizing at the time, but I came to learn it was a common occurrence at his shop. I remember my manager telling us of a shop in the valley called Norm’s Rare Guitars. He said that this was the best vintage shop in Los Angeles. So after shaking off my scolding and my severe case of overstimulation (including a quick lunch at El Compadre), we drove out to Norm’s for the very first time. This was the smaller shop before the Northridge earthquake. I will never forget that first visit. I was a nobody kid on his first trip to the sunny place for shady people, and Norm was this kind, generous, and passionate soul who broke out the good stuff even for a twelve-year-old on a $2 a week allowance. I always remembered that. He didn’t have to take the time with me and show me these beautiful guitars but he did, and I am very grateful for that. (BTW . . . he still has the signed eight-by-ten that I gave him that day . . . scary!)

I am really excited about this new book Norman is writing because it’s all based on the stories of how he found many of his guitars and the people behind the scenes. There is no one on this planet who has owned more cool guitars than Norm. He had then (and still has now) the best guitars in the world. That now-infamous guitar collection scene in Spinal Tap says it all. The best of the best . . . oh and . . . that surf